


Settling a Storm

by kazzbrekker (orphan_account)



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Has OC, M/M, OC isnt really an OC, Pirate!AU, but like, like you'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 01:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20648678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kazzbrekker
Summary: Takes place before the Grisha Trilogy,





	1. Chapter 1

"Oi. You. Sturmhond."

He ran his hands through his red curls. Groaning, intoxicated, he turned to face the man who had spoken.

"Who are you? What do you want from me? Money? A place on my ship?" he muttered.

"No." the man said.

"We found him. The one who burned down the Ibis. We tracked him down to the port of Weddle in Novyi Zem." 

"He might still be there. Our scouts say he still is. There's more."

Rummaging through his pockets, he tossed a pouch at the man. 

"There. Happy? Now tell me."

The man, visibly relaxed, went on. "They say he's no man. Some say he was a Fjerdan experiment. Others say he's Shu. All we found out was his name."

"Who is he?"

"Gruzebruya. The Brute."

Sturmhond paled. The Brute was meant to be dead, supposed to be assassinated by the Ravkans on the order of Alexander III. He was a pirate. There were many tales surrounding him. He had fought against the Ravkan fleet during the occupation of Novyi Zem. Sturmhond was brought up on tales of his legendary exploits. 

"Thank you for telling me this. Leave now. Those Fjerdan guards do not look friendly, and they keep looking over at us." Sturmhond whispered.

As the man took his leave, Sturmhond thought to himself. He would have to get his Grisha crewmates. Tolya would possibly be reciting poetry in the tavern. Tamar would probably be with him. He would have to leave quickly if he had any chance of catching the Brute and getting revenge for his fallen crewmates. It would take a few weeks to travel to Weddle. He had also heard of reports of a Zemeni pirate attacking Ravkan fleets at Os Kervo, which he would have to take care of. 

This was going to be a long trip.


	2. The Schooner

"Crew! We will be sailing to Os Kervo. Our unfortunate predicament makes us unable to sail directly to Weddle; where, I am sure, your pouches will loosen," Sturmhond dropped his voice a little, smirking, "and other things too, of course." The crew roared and cheered at that statement.

He looked around; the crew roaring and laughing made him happy; this truly felt like a home. He felt liked, admired, wanted, needed. But he had to remember it was only temporary. As the crew dispersed, he caught Tamar's eye, gesturing for him to follow.

"Captain."

"Tamar. I need a favour."

"Yes? What can I do for my gracious captain, who dutifully blesses us with his presence?"

"Stop your poetry. Leave that to your brother. I need you to help me. I need you to put up the Ravkan flag, when we get in viewing point of Os Kervo. There's a wolf I need to catch."

"Are you sure? What if the Ravkan navy spot you? Or pirates?"

"I'm counting on pirates."

"Captain. Nikolai. I cannot stress enough how much you should _not _ do this. You are our leader. There is too much at stake."

"When I became a privateer, I swore an oath to protect Ravka. From anything. From anyone. I have given up too much for the crown. I left my family. I left my people. They think I am in Ketterdam, studying there, like a good child, a good son. I had to leave them. I was becoming a burden. If I was to rule, if something, _god forbid_ happen to Vasily, the people would not accept me. I am no ruler. The people will one day forget the second son. They do not want to see me, what I have done, what I have become. How could I rule, when I do not know the ways of the Court as well as Vasily? He was born, bred for it. He was born to rule. They called me Prince Perfect. A title I will relinquish. I am prince no more. My life is on the sea, for this is a world unexplored, a world that leaves the weak dead, and the strong burned. It shows no mercy, but again, neither do the righteous."

Tamar turned away. "If you are truly willing to go through with this, I hope you have a plan."

"Of course. I plan to fight. And if the Saints will it, die with my men."

The black, soul-sucking aura of the Unsea could be felt, as they drew near. Then, those black, ethereal mountains were seen. They towered over the port town of Os Kervo, and over the people's faces; gloomy, wraith-like. It was like death's own shadow had set upon the town.

"Turn the ship. West." Sturmhond roared to the crew. "Do not dock!"

A familiar thrum of Grisha power filled the air. Then he turned.

A small schooner, manned by what looked like Zemeni men, drifted slowly towards them. They were all immobilised. Tolya had his hands outstretched, focusing his Grisha abilities upon the schooner. 

"Tamar." he panted, his voice strained, "board the schooner."

Tamar, putting her axes back into her belt, dived off the platform. 

"Captain Sturmhond." she shouted back up to him. "These men are unarmed. They have no weapons. They are tied up."

"Who are you? Where have you come from?" he said in Zemeni, calmly down to the men. 

"We were traders and merchants. Our captain decided he wanted to become a pirate, and threw all the men who didn't agree with his new idea, overboard. We were the only survivors." whispered one of the men, in Zemeni.

"Where is this pirate now? Was he the one who was robbing the Ravkan ships?"

"Yes. However, we have one wish. Do not kill him. He is a good man at heart. He has been through troubled times. Fjerdans robbed his ship, _druskelle_, thinking there were zowa on board. He lost his young son to them. He has nothing to live for."

"I will try and honour your wish."

Sturmhond called down. "Tamar. Untie the men. Let them eat, ask the chef to prepare the very best for our guests. We will need their help to identify the pirate's ship."

As the crew scrambled to action, throwing down ropes for Tamar and the men to climb, Sturmhond looked upon the horizon. Is this what Vasily would have done? He would have scoffed, and sunken the schooner with the men on board, laughing all the while. He liked to hunt and it was prevalent in his speech and action; he attacked, hunted down, his ears were fine-tuned to any remark, he was brought up coddled, made to think he was the best. But Sturmhond had done more for Ravka than Vasily could have ever done.

The night had fallen, and with it, rose a sense of danger. The Unsea's darkness felt everlasting, expansive, in the face of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, if this does go well, i'll release a new chapter or something. :)


End file.
